The Golden Scar
The ledger weighed four pounds, two ounces, a precise and damning weight that Elias Thorne held in his left hand while he counted the pages with his right, his fingers stained a permanent, sickly yellow by the golden ink of state records. The light in the Ministry of Memory fell from the high, barred windows in long, dusty shafts that illuminated the dust motes dancing around the spines of the...
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